Bourbon
by TeaOli
Summary: They had a thing going on until they didn't. Teamed up to unravel the mystery of twins they both wish to protect, both acknowledge there's still something between them, despite all the hurting. And have to learn to work together while working it out.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Bourbon & Amaretto**

* * *

He watched the woman sitting across from him. He did it through the bottom of his glass so he could pretend she didn't know what he was doing, but since he'd long ago catalogued every curve and plane of her face, that didn't keep him from getting a good look. He was intimately acquainted with the softness of her skin, knew that sensitive place where her jaw met her neck was the same shade of brown painted over reds and yellows as the bourbon he was viewing it through.

A memory of how she tasted bubbled up from where he'd buried it and he swallowed the last of his drink just to forget her flavor.

It didn't work.

She had always been like bourbon and amaretto on his tongue, and that last sip just left him craving marzipan.

.

She was drinking the bourbon the first night they met. He should've taken that as a sign.

Bourbon had played a role in his family's courtship rituals since the days before Earth was united, since the time when "I'm drunk" was considered a legitimate female mating call throughout the honky-tonks and dive bars that littered the southern United States of America.

McCoys weren't expected to frequent such establishments. Not regularly, anyway. But Leonard Horatio McCoy was too adventurous to stick with the genteel country clubs and the delicate debutantes to be found there. He'd met Jocelyn in a dive outside of Oxford, Mississippi. She liked beer better than bourbon, and he should have taken that as a sign, too.

Upenda Wanjira Uhura was as different from Jocelyn as peaches were from peanuts. In spite of her privileged background – no matter how egalitarian Earth's society was said to be, there were still plenty of de facto caste systems in play – she was completely lacking any sense of entitlement. He found her easy to talk to. It helped that she was a doctor. And that she knew her bourbon from her Tennessee whiskey.

They traded war stories: He trumped her "He said he wanted me, but he married someone else, anyway" with his "She married me, but she wanted someone else from the beginning. And after our daughter was born, she went and got him." He didn't tell her the "him" had been his cousin Joe.

He'd wanted to follow her back to her little New York City flat that first night they met – something he hadn't been tempted to do since the year after Jocelyn had left and a pretty thing named Nancy had looked at him with big brown eyes. She'd thought he was sweet and called him "Plum," but she hadn't wanted a ready-made family, and he wasn't willing to turn his back on Joanna. After Nancy, he'd learned that bourbon was pretty good cure for being sweet, too.

But Leonard McCoy had not been thinking about any of that night he first met Upenda Uhura.

At her sister's engagement party, Pen was a amiable companion – a sharp wit who could talk shop or good hooch with equal alacrity – housed in a fine form that was topped off with a mien more appealing than even the youngest Uhura's. Never mind that to most people the Starfleet officer resembled a shorter clone of the doctor – even Spock had once stated that the shared "a considerable amount of facial similarity for siblings who are not monozygotic twins" – whenever he laid eyes on the elder Uhura sister, Leonard perceived a loveliness that was missing when he looked at his colleague.

Bones had wanted to follow her home that night, but had settled for her contact info and the promise of a dance at the wedding.

He hadn't expected her to spend the next few months stealing his daughter's heart or that she'd bring him dangerously close to admitting she'd stolen his, too.

Leonard Horatio McCoy didn't do serious relationships.

But it had turned out that serious was all Upenda Wanjira Uhura could accept from him.

"I love your daughter, and I love you," Pen had told him, "but she's already had to see you go through one fucked up relationship. If taking us any further means setting _her_ up for more heartbreak, then we may as well end things right now."

He'd done the only thing he could think of at the time and reminded her he'd already signed on for another three years on the Enterprise.

.

"Liked what you saw?" Upenda quipped when he set his glass back on the table between them. She knew people who played with fire eventually got burned, but Len was flame to her moth. Flying towards his light and heat was instinctive.

Maybe it was that slow smile that he tried to pass off as a sneer. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave him away every time.

"Darlin'," he murmured, leaning forward until she could breathe in the tantalizing aroma of bourbon and McCoy in the still air, "I could watch you for a year and never get tired of the sight."

And just like that – with just one five-letter word – the spell was broken. A delicious thrill shot out from between her thighs to radiate from her toes to her fingertips, leaving her a little lightheaded. But when she let it, her formidable brain was more than capable of overriding her libido, no matter how appealing the temptation.

She hadn't seen Leonard McCoy in more than a year – and wouldn't be seeing him now if her brother-in-law hadn't wanted her at her sister's side. Perspective. It was the only thing keeping her from making another foolish decision because of this man.

His heart rate had increased and she could Hear the nitric oxide flooding the arteries in his penis as arousal began to overcome the common sense he carried around like a badge of honor. It wasn't enough. Just like Len, Upenda had been there and gotten her heart broken for her troubles, but _un_like him, she was an Uhura, and she still believed in second chances.

"Bitter old man," she almost whispered.

"Not _too_ old, sweetheart," he retorted, topping up both their glasses. "Same difference between me and you as the elf and your baby sister."

He was wrong. Spock was nine years older than Ennie. Leonard was only eight years older than Upenda. She didn't bother to correct him. Instead, she lifted her glass in silent toast and drank deeply.

The first night she'd met him she'd said, "I don't get drunk. Ever." That was the truth. Not for the first time in her life, she wished she was a liar.

* * *

**A/N:** If you know my fics, you know I mostly write Spock/Uhura. Although this is a follow-up to an S/U fic (s/5208934/1/Then_Comes_Spock), don't expect to see too much of them here. This is Bones's story. Finally.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters, and I sure as heck don't profit from writing about them.


	2. Dark Amber Burn

**Chapter One: Dark Amber Burn**

* * *

Ambassador Sarek, once of Vulcan, now of T'Khasi Vokaya, kept a parlor that would have made any Southern belle house-proud. Bones tried not to get too comfortable. Even at times like tonight – _especially_ at times like tonight – when he was among friends, it was important remember where he was.

Even after six years, he'd never quite gotten to the point where he actually _liked_ flying around in a giant tin can, but spending the past few weeks on the colony ("Memory of Vulcan" was an awfully sappy name for a planet of a famously unsentimental race) among Vulcans and with _her_ made him miss the Enterprise.

It shamed him to think of how he'd greeted her the day she'd arrived. The woman had never done anything to him except love him and his kid – and demand that he respect her feelings.

"You're here to meddle!" he'd accused.

_Because, of course, the _entire_ universe revolves around Leonard McCoy_, he thought derisively. _She came all the way from Earth to Planet Pointy-Ears just to look over your shoulder._

And then he'd added insult to injury by disparaging the ancient (only he'd said "primitive") African ritual that was her real reason for being here. Getting her to forgive him for his latest round of fuck-ups should have taken a miracle. Lucky him, she was more worried about keeping her pregnant baby sister in good spirits than about getting even with a foolish former lover.

Shaking his head, he indulged in a moment of self-disgust. _May as well change my name to Jim Kirk,_ he figured. _Except these days, even Jim is too smart to act like such an ass to a woman._

Truth was, Bones'd been too shocked by her unexpected visit to his temporary office to remember his manners.

Seeing her damned near every day was easier than he would have expected. But it was still harder than he would have liked.

The fact that his old friend practically panted like a dog, his tongue just about hanging out of his mouth, every time the three of them were together didn't exactly help. Jabilo Geoffrey M'Benga was halfway to smitten, and there wasn't a damned thing Bones could do about it except try his best to get in the way.

Ambassador Sarek's parlor had been made for getting in the way. The room was far smaller than the two more formal sitting rooms in the large residence.

Spock said it was a replica of the one his momma had designed back on Vulcan. She'd wanted a public space where _her_ guests (Bones figured she'd meant humans) could spread out and mingle a bit without ever feeling like they were far from the action. "Mingle" was just a polite form of saying "getting in the way."

Pen lapped up everything her fellow African had to say about practicing medicine on Vulcans. She did a good job of pretending it was just polite professional interest, but McCoy suspected she was doing it on purpose. She hadn't used to be the type to play those kinds of games, but hell, people changed, didn't they?

_Maybe she ain't playin'_, an insidious little voice inside his head taunted. _J.G. is a good lookin' guy. And he don't come with a load of baggage heavy enough to weigh down ten men_.

Bones shut the voice up and faked a laugh at J.G.'s latest tale of cultural misunderstanding right along with Upenda. He knew she was faking because while those gorgeous lips curved up and that throaty laughter poured out like Kentucky's finest, when she glanced over at him, her eyes weren't shining the way they did when he was the one tickling her funny bone.

Well, if she was woman enough to act like everything was fine, he was man enough to do the same. They owed it to her little sister, anyway.

"Can you guys maybe _not_ talk shop?" Uhura interrupted their mini medical conference, earning McCoy's eternal gratitude. "Dinner is almost ready." She speared all three medics with her death stare. "I could use a little help in the kitchen, in fact."

His appreciation faded. There was no way in _hell_ he was leaving the other two alone together.

"I don't know a thing about cooking for damned vegetarians," he muttered, half under his breath. He knew from experience that his colleague would catch every word. Those ears of hers had only gotten more sensitive as her pregnancy progressed.

But J.G. and Pen were already on their feet, and Uhura was sticking out her tongue.

_Damn it to hell!_ His miscalculation hit him in the face like a right cross, but it was too late to go trailing after the other two like some sort of a lovesick puppy.

He thought he'd managed to school his features into something that said I-don't-give-a-shit, but his friend's sudden look of sympathy told him he was wrong.

"We're eating African tonight," she offered softly.

He didn't even bother answering. She knew him well enough to understand. Too damned well.

His eyes glued to the swinging kitchen doors no matter how hard he tried to turn them away, Bones didn't notice when she glanced over at Spock, or when the half-Vulcan shook his head in warning.

"Dessert is peach cobbler," he heard her say. The hint of pity in her tone was enough to snatch back his lost sense. "Just for you. If you come help me, I can show you how to do it yourself."

"Nah, that's okay, beautiful," he told her, aware that his voice was gruff. "Too many cooks…."

Bones gave a weary shrug and turned a strained smile her way. The sympathy in her gaze chased him right back to staring at the door. He closed his eyes against the sight. After a long moment, he heard her footsteps fade as she left to join her sister and J.G..

.

.

Upenda glanced around Ambassador Sarek's pristine kitchen.

Ennie had gotten almost everything prepped. Ingredients for a popular Ethiopian stew awaited their final steps. The thick, doughy batter for flatbread resting near the assortment of glass and pottery bowls, as well as a huge pot of yams and white potatoes, were the only other indicators that a meal was in preparation.

Nothing was out of place.

She surveyed the red lentils, still soaking in a large stoneware bowl of water, before examining the diced onion and minced garlic. Several tomatoes waited to be crushed and finely chopped. Leaning over to sniff a small container of blended spices, she recognized a maternal great-grandmother's recipe for berbere.

"Looks like your sister plans on making mesir wat tonight. I thought your family was from Kenya?" M'Benga's deep polished voice made her turn and smile.

"We are, mostly," she told him. "Mama's great-grandmother is from Ethiopia, and all Uhuras and Wakufunzis tend to embrace a bit of a… pan African lifestyle. Especially where food is concerned."

"Ah." He nodded sagely. "It shames me as a son of the continent to forget that you are a member of two of our First Families."

Upenda Heard the lie, but dismissed it as flirting. He wasn't the first African to pretend to make light of her auspicious heritage in that manner. Besides, Wakufunzis weren't supposed to use their Gifts outside of work.

"No worries," she assured him with genuine laughter. "There have been times when I've wanted to forget that myself!" Crossing over to the sonic cleanser, she carefully washed her hands.

"Don't tell me you're not proud to have descended from the ones who freed Africa!" He stood close behind her, and she moved aside to let him take her place. She made her escape under the gentle humming of the sonics.

"It's one thing to be proud of legendary ancestors," she said as she crossed back to select a tomato and a sharp knife. "It's quite another to live through the reality of nosey old aunties who want to know why I'm not already married and popping out more heroes-in-the-making."

M'Benga laughed at that. The sound was happy, infectious. Her lips twitched in concert.

"What is it about African aunties?" he wanted to know. "I can't go back to Tanzania without one saying, 'When Jabilo brings home a wife…' It's even worse for my sisters."

Upenda smiled in understanding. "I know! Ours are the same. Muta can do what he likes, for now. But Ennie and me? We should have about four babies each already! Or course, she's just about halfway there, so…" She shook her head. "It doesn't help that I'm the eldest and she's the youngest.

"You know that sly way the old aunties speak? Like you won't know they're trying to pressure you? 'Nyota has a fine husband and twins on the way!' They adore Spock. 'Perhaps you should go to T'Khasi Vokaya to find a Vulcan of your own if no one in your homeland, or even New York City, meets your approval.' As if!" She shook her head.

"So," he murmured as he came up beside her and began crushing the tomatoes she hadn't set aside for chopping, "_did_ you come here to find a Vulcan of your own?" Amusement laced his voice, but she could Hear the very real desire to know beneath his teasing.

"Of course not! I came here for the birthing ritual. Baba's family are Agĩkũyũ and they take babies _very_ seriously."

He laughed again, and she Heard him begin to relax.

"You're almost as bad as Leonard," she continued. "He accused me of coming to usurp his research!"

This time, his laughter failed to reflect what she Heard.

"His bark is worse than his bite."

"Oh, I know that," she said, smiling softly. "But the bark can still prick if you let it." She sliced into another tomato, missing his sharp look.

"Have you known him long then?"

She looked up to find him studying her intently.

"No. Wet met just before Ennie's wedding last year. He'd never known a woman who could drink under the table until he met me."

M'Benga's next shout of laughter rang true, and when Nyota pushed through the door seconds later, it was to find her two helpers had made considerable progress on the meal.

.

.

Dinner had been a terrible idea. Bones could see why Sarek had suggested it, though. Spock had been what passed for jumpy in a Vulcan every time the two Starfleet doctors talked to him for the last week. The commander hadn't been comfortable in their presence since they'd discovered there was something funny going on with his sperm.

With everyone (mostly) following Uhura's ban on talking shop, table conversation had turned to gossip and banter. Jabilo insisted on recounting their exploits at Ole Miss. Pen had countered with stories of growing up on a compound in Kenya's Garissa District. Though they'd directed their comments to the table at large (and weren't the only ones telling tales out of school), Bones couldn't shake the feeling that they were carrying on a covert flirtation. Spock – both of him – might be able to relax under the circumstances; McCoy had to settle for thanking everything that was holy that M'Benga was out of arm's reach.

By the time the old Spock's girlfriend had snookered Nyota into a conversation about subspace physics and communications engineering, dinner was over and Sarek was herding them back into the parlor for dessert. Bones had to clasp his hands behind his back, Spock-style, just to keep from wrapping them around his African contemporary's thick neck.

Nyota and Astra Boipuso drifted over to a pair of matching armchairs near the tall windows, still yakking about the field they had in common. It was only natural for the three doctors to do the same across the room. When the two Spocks joined them – one on his left, the other at his right – he realized Nyota Uhura wasn't the only one who could read him like a book.

Pen spoke with her hands when she was passionate about the subject. Between their wild – but somehow graceful – gesticulation and the way her eyes sparkled with excitement as she began to explain herself, Bones could barely hear the words coming out of her mouth.

"Think about it: Vulcans are at what appears to the end of their evolutionary journey," Upenda ordered her small audience. He sucked in a gulp of thin air when she reached across the narrow coffee table and grabbed his wrist. Just a quick squeeze and she was gone, but the damage was done. "They're rigid," she continued, "not amenable to change. It makes sense that that's why they have some ability in self-healing."

_They don't know the _meaning_ of rigid_, he thought wryly, shifting in his seat.

"Humans are, at best, half-way through, and still pretty adaptable. Did anyone ever discover why physiologically Spock is more Vulcan than human? It makes sense. And if Spock's Vulcan half was trying to 'heal' itself, then yes, it makes sense for it to eliminate the human genes when it could. What better opportunity would it have than during spermatogenesis? Those cells are being stripped down and exposed, ready to be 'fixed.'"

_She is trying to kill me_, McCoy decided. Listening to talk about pointy-eared swimmers should've been like an ice-water bath, but no one had seen fit to tell that to his nether regions. He shifted again.

"But that wouldn't explain why the babies are female, now would it? What if, instead of being the eliminated, the human genes were somehow induced to mutate so that they mimicked Vulcan DNA?

"And, going with the 'adaptable human' theory, who's to say that some of Ennie's genes weren't recruited to the other side early in the twins' development?"

J.G. 's eyes took on a glint that spelled trouble. Bones knew that look. He'd seen it dozens of times when a pretty female had just proven herself smart enough to be worthy of the great Jabilo Geoffrey M'Benga's special attentions.

_Oh, _hell_ no_!

"Damned meddler!" Bones bellowed. He was on his feet and clearing the coffee table to fly towards her before either Spock could stop him.

.

_I should have seen this coming_, Upenda realized with a silent groan. She'd promised him she hadn't come here to step on his toes. The babies might be her nieces, but figuring them out was supposed to be his sandbox.

She opened her mouth to apologize, to stand down, to do whatever it took to keep from upsetting Ennie. But before she even drew breath, Len's lips were crashing down on hers. They were hot and insistent. And they were gone before she had time to kiss him back.

"Brilliant, beautiful meddler," he murmured. His right thumb caressed her cheek before he released her.

"It would seem that human genius runs in the family, dada," Spock observed.

Cheeks burning, Upenda stepped away from her admirer and waved off her brother-in-law's compliment. "That's not genius; it's looking for the simple solution," she pointed out. "You three have been so bogged down in your complicated research, you failed to look for the obvious. And remember, I could still be wrong."

* * *

**A/N**: Mesir wat is an Enthiopian dish. Berbere is a mixture of spices. Yes, much of the dinner scene appeared in _Then Comes Spock_; the differences are due to the changed perspectives.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


	3. Fiery Flush

**Chapter Two: Fiery Flush**

* * *

"What the hell was that, Len?" Upenda was so angry she was shaking. Taking a deep breath didn't help at all.

Waiting through the end of the evening had given her too much time to think about the kiss. The Spocks and M'Benga – and even Ambassador Sarek – had immediately begun examining her proposal and suggesting ways in which to test its validity. Len had been an enthusiastic cheerleader, offering up ideas of his own while his eyes, their corners crinkled from the smile that had remained steadfast until the group broke up for the night, rarely left her face. The entire experience left her stomach churning.

She stepped past him into his temporary quarters, folded her arms across her chest and waited.

"What?" he asked, all false innocence. Upenda glared. His gaze dropped to his feet.

"Oh," he said. "You mean the kiss?"

She didn't believe in the contrite pose, either. Because Leonard McCoy could lie without saying a word.

.

_Joanna McCoy begged to join the street dancers, and after her performance at Ennie's wedding reception, Upenda didn't even consider denying her. The girl was good and deserved a chance to show her stuff._

"_You go," she said. "I'll hold our bags and watch."_

_For a moment it looked like Joanna would protest, but then her hazel eyes lit and, shrugging her shoulders, she flashed an impish grin._

"_Okay, but next song is yours, Pennie. Promise!" Then she ran off to join the fray._

_Three songs later, the teen was flushed and breathless and smiling even harder as she made her way back._

"_Sorry!" she gasped. "Got caught up in the moment!"_

_Upenda laughed down at her young friend. "That's fine, sweetie. You looked great out there! Where'd you learn those moves?"_

_Joanna relieved her of half the bags before answering, and the two started walking back towards the hotel she shared with her father._

"_I made 'em up, mostly," she confided. "But Dad taught me the basics."_

_That stopped Upenda in her tracks. "Are we talking about the same man who gave a pretty good imitation of an android with crossed circuits last night?"_

"_Pfft. That." Joanna waved her hand airily and continued walking. "He was just funnin' you. Keeps the women from getting the wrong idea, if you know what I mean. But back at Ole Miss, he gave dancing lessons 'cause Grandpaw wouldn't pay after they had their falling out." _

"_Come on. Your dad can_not_ dance." Upenda laughed at the ridiculousness the idea._

_"Yes he _can_! These days he just saves it up for… _you _know." The young girl wiggled her eyebrows in a perfect imitation of her father._

"_Gah! Shut up!" Upenda clapped her hands over her ears, bags swinging wildly. "You're too young to be talking about… 'you know'!"_

_The look Joanna gave her had been mastered by adolescent girls the universe over. "Aww, lighten up, Pen. I'm almost fifteen!"_

_Later that night, with Joanna happily ensconced with a host of teen cousins at the Uhura family compound, Upenda introduced Len to one Garissa Town's more upscale nightclubs. Hips rolling and popping while his feet traced intricate patterns across the floor, he proved his daughter right._

"_You old faker!" Pen exclaimed when he finally let her take a break from the dance floor. "I could barely keep up with you."_

"_If you think my bachata was somethin' special, you really gotta see my cumbia," he murmured into her ear and pulled her back into the dance._

.

"Yes, damn it! I mean the kiss," she snarled now. "What the _fuck_, Len?"

Grinning sheepishly, he looked up again, his hazel eyes alight with the laughter that used to make her knees go weak. "Sorry, darlin'. Got caught up in the moment. You know how I get."

"Yeah," she said, anger warring with anguish. "I do."

Upenda stormed out.

.

.

Bones was three quarters through his third glass when the door chimed. He took a slow sip before calling out a "Come on in!" full of false enthusiasm. He glanced at the bottle – the second of the five Pen had brought from Earth just for him – and shook his head. At the rate he was going, he'd go through them all before the babies were born.

"Doctor." The deep, flat-toned voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He was expecting the sister, but told himself he shouldn't be surprised when he got the brother-in-law, instead. Maybe hardly anyone else had seen the way Spock was changing, but it flashed like a neon sign in McCoy's expert opinion. It was part of the job for him to notice things like that. And he knew it wasn't just the lovely lieutenant making it happen.

Bones had seen the way the Uhuras had welcomed the half-Vulcan into their fold. He knew Spock allowed his wife's family far greater physical liberties than he accepted from other humans.

For all her fire, Nyota would have been safer. These days, the Uhuras were as much his as they were hers, and the doctor knew Spock believed in protecting his own.

He stood in the center of the large room, eying first Bones, then the bottle.

"I know you are not always able to control your tongue, Leonard, but it might be prudent for you to keep it away from my sister until you learn how to use it more judiciously."

Bones shook his head. Humor was another thing Spock had caught from the Uhuras. And he seemed to enjoy trotting it out at Len's expense. "You sound like Pen," he muttered.

Spock kept staring. "It is not unusual for family members to hold similar opinions."

"I already apologized," McCoy snapped before the hobgoblin got back on his high horse.

Spock didn't say a word. Just raised that damnable eyebrow like he could see inside your head and suss out the lie for what it was. Bones snatched up his glass and swallowed.

"Whatever. I explained myself. Can't undo what's been done, can I?"

"No." Just like a poorly-made android, the overgrown elf didn't even blink. Instead, he snagged a chair and sat – uninvited – across the table. "Changing history is beyond even your inimitable skills, Leonard."

Bones frowned into his glass, certain Spock was just waiting to pounce like a cat on a rat. Six fingers (and counting) of bourbon made him an easy target. May as well get it over with while he was still alert enough to bite back.

"You may as well get on with it," he said sourly. "Tell me how I need to be careful of your baby sister's precious little heart and that if I my intentions aren't honorable I need to keep my lips the hell away from hers. Go on and spit it out. Tell me what a shit I am."

Spock cocked his head and just stared for half a lifetime before saying, "It would be redundant for me to expound upon what you have already stated so eloquently, Doctor." He eased his skinny self up with all the grace of the cat Bones had compared him to and walked over to the door. McCoy took another slug.

"Leonard," Spock said as the door whooshed open. "Anesthetizing yourself against the force of an Uhura woman is a futile effort. _Kaiidth._ You would do better to accept what is."

"You're gonna be pretty good at being a dad, you know that?" Len muttered.

"Indeed," said Spock, inclining his head.

.

.

She was waiting for him when he returned to his father's house. He was barely through the door before her arms were around him. She smiled when he hugged her back after only the slightest hesitation. Tension eased out of the half-Vulcan, and his sister-in-law relaxed into his embrace.

"I warned you, kaka," she said, chuckling softly into his shirt. "You knew what you were getting yourself into."

"Indeed, you did," Spock agreed. "And I did. The Uhura propensity for physical contact has induced me to increase the efficacy of my mental shielding by nearly twenty-percent."

Smiling, Upenda pushed out of his embrace and stared up at him.

"You know. I never wanted a big brother, always trying to beat up the boys who made me cry." She beamed at him. "I was proud to be the one watching out for the younger kids. But it's kind of nice being on the other side."

His face remained characteristically austere, but she could see the minute crinkling at the corners of his eyes – crinkling that had been missing when, an hour earlier, he'd apprised the Uhura sisters of his intentions – that said he was amused. The look was almost as soothing as the hug.

"I hope it will not be a disappointment for you to learn that, this time, physical violence was not required," he teased. "It seems your visit left Leonard suitably chastened. He continued his self-flagellation in my presence."

She laughed, loud and hard, at the image before she recalled that her sister was sleeping in the next room. Upenda cut herself off, settling for smiling at her brother-in-law. This was the happiest she'd felt in over a year.

Not since Len…

Her momentary good humor faded under the weight of memory and confusion. Embarrassed by the abrupt emotional change, she whispered a raspy "Thank you" and tried to turn away.

Warm hands touched either side of her jaw and gently lifted. "You are no longer the oldest sibling in our family. It is my duty to protect you, dada," Spock told her. "Nyota does not reward dereliction of duty."

"Damn right!" the woman in question declared from their bedroom doorway. "Now, take your hands off my dada! It's my turn to hug her."

Nyota waddled across the room and angled her protruding belly until she could fold herself into Upenda's arms. One or both of the twins – usually lulled to sleep through their father's mind touch by now – shifted, startling both sisters into excited giggles and rapid speculation.

"Already, my daughters show the influence of their Uhura ancestry," Spock concluded after a brief hand-to-belly consultation. "They did not wish to be left out of the exchange of affection."

* * *

The next day, Leonard McCoy called a truce, saying, "Meddler or not, doesn't make sense for you not work on proving your own damned hypothesis."

Luckily, Uhura women were as known for their forgiving natures as they were for keeping their menfolk in check.

"Apology accepted," she said, sticking out her hand.

Bones only just managed not to kiss her again.

He set up a spot in a lab for her, and she made a simulation of how her theory might work in practice. And then she came up with the quickest way for them to start testing it:

"Mitochondrial deoxyribonucleic acid is _always_ maternally-inherited in humans and in Vulcans. Check Spock's mtDNA; if it's human, we won't have ruled anything out, but if it appears to be Vulcan, we'll know I'm at least on the right track. Any further tests will just back up what we already know."

Bones ignored the smugness written all over that little speech because he knew she was right, damn it. M'Benga. knew it, too.

"It makes sense for Spock's mitochondrial DNA to have been mutated – I should have thought of it myself." Excitement just oozed out from the African doctor as he rushed around the lab looking for the reports on McCoy's earlier analyses. "With the higher metabolism inherent to his predominantly Vulcanoid physiology, we should have suspected an alteration in cellular metabolism. And human mitochondria couldn't achieve that in an efficient manner!" J.G. grinned at Pen, and only his promise to behave kept Bones from acting on the urge to slap him upside the head.

But mostly she left him and J.G. alone to iron out the details. Her "little dada" needed her, she said. Len didn't protest.

It would have all worked out real nice, too.

If the universe hadn't been conspiring to ruin both doctors' lives.

* * *

Jabilo Geoffrey M'Benga's eyes stared so hard, McCoy half-thought they might climb out of his head and follow Pen straight back to Ambassador Sarek's house. J.G. glanced up to meet Len's glare and flashed a grin before bending over his micro-viewer again.

"Dr. Uhura is a beautiful woman." He might've come off casual if he'd been taking to anyone else.

Bones tensed, pretty sure what was coming next, but J.G. didn't even look up from the device he was calibrating. "Yup," he replied as if it didn't make any difference to him.

"And highly intelligent," M'Benga murmured.

"That, too." _And the best armful you'll never hold._

"Len…." M'Benga waited until Bones looked up before continuing. "Three weeks ago you were screaming at her."

"You heard that, huh?" He pretended to sort through the rest of the slides.

"Four nights ago you were kissing her," the undeterred African went on. "If there's something go—"

"Far as I know," he interrupted, "Pen's single. You interested?" _I'll rip your balls off if you so much as _look _at her again._

"Len, if something that is going on between you two makes this assignment… If you need to step back, get some breathing room…" J.G. said. "Look, I've got your back with Command. You covered my ass often enough back in the day."

_Damn straight!_ Bones looked up again. "There's nothing going on, J.G."

The look in M'Benga's eyes called "bullshit." "You _kissed_ her," he insisted aloud.

"Caught up in the moment," Bones replied.

"She didn't protest. Didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. And she didn't look very surprised after you managed to pry yourself away from her mouth."

Bones sighed heavily and put down the slide he'd just selected. "Fine," he grumbled. "I met Pen about a year ago, just before Spock and Ny's wedding. We got along pretty well. Spent a little time together before and a lot of time after. My kid really liked her. But you _know_ I don't do serious relationships. You know why. And so does Pen."

J.G. set his fists on his hips like a momma fixin' to holler. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard come out of your mouth yet, Len. And I have heard you say some pretty stupid shit."

He acted like he was immune to McCoy's best stink-eye. 'Cause he was. "You know I'm right," he insisted.

"There's nothing going on with Pen and me," Bones told him. "That's just how it is."

Len bent over his work again. J.G. said some even stupider shit, like he was set on trying Bones's last damned nerve.

Then all that nonsense got pushed to the back burner 'cause Nyota Uhura went into labor.

* * *

**A/N**: _Kaiidth_ is the Vulcan concept of "what is _is_." _Kaka_ is a term meaning brother in Swahili; _dada_ means sister.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


	4. Sweet Escape, Bitter Almond

**Chapter Three: Sweet Escape, Bitter Almond**

* * *

"Two for two!" Len grinned and hugged Upenda to his side.

Her tiny nieces lay on her sister's chest, exhausted from their journey into the outside world. The tangled hair clinging to Ennie's sweat-dampened face couldn't diminish the light of her smile. Looking as fatigued – and as serenely happy – as his wife, Spock hovered over his new family.

Still overwhelmed by the experience, Penda leaned into Len's embrace.

"It's different," she said, her voice a strangled whisper and yet full of wonder.

Len loosened his hold a little, looking at her in concern. "What's different, love?"

She stared at his craggy face. Moments ago, it had been wreathed in joy for her sister and brother-in-law. For her nieces. For life. She reached up and touched his cheek, willing the smile to find its way back and erase the lines of worry.

"When the patients already have your heart," she explained, "it's… different."

"Yeah. It is, isn't it?"

Then he did smile again. Cheeks curving out, eyes crinkling at the corners. Upenda felt her stomach tighten. She'd thought herself already overflowing with happiness, but Len's smile proved her wrong. She realized she was grinning with him and gave in to the sudden urge hug him back.

Leonard McCoy could be dangerous, she reminded herself. Addictive. So, she released him after the briefest of embraces. But he kept one arm wrapped around her as they both turned to watch Ennie and Spock get acquainted with their daughters.

.

She hooked her arm across his hips and squeezed back, and he needed a moment to reassess his stance on Upenda Uhura.

Just looking at her joyful face was treat. Listening to her happy voice was a reminder of the good things in the universe. Holding her felt divine.

Pen rested her head on his shoulder and turned so she could snake the other arm around his waist.

"I never really imagined I'd be here to see this moment." Her voice was softer, wistful. "Baba delivered all of us, but I didn't think I'd be able to stand it, you know?" He didn't know. "Now," she went on, "I hate to think I might have missed it."

Her words conjured up an unexpected surge of anger as memory punched him right in the gut.

Thanks to his thankless ex-wife, Bones had almost missed his own daughter's birth.

.

_Pulling extra shifts at the hospital served a couple of purposes: it kept him out of Jocelyn's hair while also ensuring that he'd have plenty of time off once the baby was born._

_He'd been lucky to get a few other medics to agree to the time exchange, and while he was grateful, it was grueling work putting the additional hours. There'd been a time when working young doctors into the ground was standard operating procedure for American training hospitals. Now he knew first hand why the practice had been outlawed._

_Two more days of this kind of madness and he'd be free. A week after that, he'd be a dad. And then maybe it wouldn't be too long before his wife stopped looking at him like he was lower than the rocks at the bottom of the Chattahoochee._

_"Wake up, son!" The voice's thick drawl belied its owner's genteel upbringing._

_Before he could so much as grimace at the interruption to what had been shaping up to be a much needed nap, a heavy hand slammed unto his back. The force of it, pushed him forward so that he had to thrust out his hands to keep from spilling his brains all over the table._

_Leonard bit his lip to keep from groaning._

_"Damn it, Gupta!" he bellowed once the danger had passed. He pushed himself up from the table and turned to glare at his friend. The other doctor's open smile almost made him feel guilty about snapping. Almost._

_It wasn't his colleague's fault he was vid-star handsome and looking as fresh as a daisy on an early summer morning. It wasn't Janav's fault that he'd been blessed with a family that never expected anything from him except that he made himself happy. It wasn't the other man's fault that while his great-whatever grandpa had been something big in neurosurgery, he'd been free to pursue a career in obstetrics without anyone hollering that he wasn't carrying on tradition. It wasn't Gupta's fault that, while Atlanta was a huge city renown for its medical facilities, practicing at their level made for a very small world._

_Too damned small._

_But Len was tired as hell and all he could see was that, in spite of that sandy colored hair and the pale grey eyes, it was obvious just from looking at him that Janav Gupta carried the same genes as Jocelyn McCoy. The two were more like brother and sister than second cousins, once removed. And right about now, everything related to his wife had a sneaky habit of getting on Leonard's last nerve._

_"What the hell are you smiling about?" he gritted out._

_Gupta folded his arms across his chest, the smiling going all knowing and smug._

_"I just thought you'd wanna know, cuz," he said, "we've had Joss downstairs for the last coupla hours or so. You better get on down there . Looks like someone's gonna be a daddy tonight."_

_Len was out the door before he even thought to be pissed._

_"Don't you worry," Gupta called after him, "I cleared everything with your chief!"_

_Delirious with joy, Len turned his head to smile and almost smacked into a wall for his efforts. But the thing about joy is, it can make you forget all the bad shit. For a little while at least._

.

"Yeah, sug'," he whispered around his clenched teeth. "You woulda kicked yourself if you'd missed this, what with you only being a couple doors away."

Pen glanced over at him, her eyes filled with concern, but he hardly noticed.

.

_Soon as he made it to Maternity, almost, he had cause to remember about being pissed._

_He skidded into Joss's room to find she didn't exactly need him to hold her hand. His cousin Joe had that covered._

_Pieces began falling into place, but Leonard hadn't been ready to give up, to give in. _

_Joss was looking at Joe like he'd hung the moon, the stars _and _the sun, while settin' man on Earth in his spare time._

_Joe, who also liked beer more than bourbon. Joe, who had been the first one to introduce Len to dive bars._

_Joe, who'd been forced to be Joan for the first six years of his life. Until Leonard's aunt and uncle hadn't been able to ignore the fact that their daughter really _was _meant to be their son._

_Joseph McCoy, who wasn't gonna be a daddy tonight – and maybe not any night, ever – was the only thing keeping Jocelyn from screaming through her pain._

.

Upenda's warm body pressed against his brought him back to the present. He followed her gaze to the newly-minted family across the terrace. She was still worried about him, he knew, but a quick glance down told him he hadn't completely spoiled her joy.

Slowly, he lifted a hand until he could tangle his fingers in her heavy mass of tiny braids. Pressing her head back to his shoulder, he felt his anger begin to drain away. A little smile crept up on him as he watched Spock bend over Ny and the babies, a look of awe practically melting the hobgoblin's granite features.

That was the damnedest thing about joy: it could make even past shit seem a little less shitty.

.

.

The ritual First Meal completed, Upenda handed the empty plate to Astra Boipuso. There were tears in the older woman's eyes in spite of the soft smile on her lips. Without giving a thought to the morality of her actions, Pen Listened to this near-stranger who was somehow intimately connected to her family.

Elevated blood-pressure. Stress hormones flooding her. Heart rate variable but not dangerously so. Respiration within normal parameters. Muscles tense but not rigid.

In the seconds it took to Hear the functions of Astra's body, Pen noted that the communications expert-turned-singer never once lost her smile or the kind look in her eyes. And yet, her distress was clear.

It was clear for Upenda, at least. If Astra spoke, Pen was certain, Nyota would Hear it, as well. And if their new friend was upset, Ennie was still vulnerable enough to share the other woman's pain, whatever its cause.

Later, Pen decided, she would speak privately with Astra. This was Ennie's day.

She turned back to her sister, asking, "What are my nieces' names?"

Nyota didn't look up from the double bundle snuggled against her chest, but the smile on her lips grew, and Pen could Hear the joy and pride flowing through her.

"Saoirse Ta'an and Seren Adia."

A quickly stifled snort made Upenda shoot a look at Astra. She had a hand clapped over her mouth, and her eyes were brighter than they'd been just moments before. Pen raised her brows, Listening to the laughter the other woman couldn't quite keep in.

Amusement Sounded different from grief, though the two shared many of the same processes.

.

.

M'Benga was just about ready to pack it in by the time McCoy made it back to the lab. The African doctor had made good use of the passing time, but his efforts hadn't yielded any surprising results. But then neither of them were really expecting anything different.

They were both tired – him even more than J.G. Len sent his friend back to his guest quarters, anyway.

Soon as the lab doors closed behind Jabilo, Len reached into his kit and pulled out two flexi-slides. He stared at the carefully labeled transparent slips for a long time before he crossed the room to his work station.

He didn't know why he waited until he was alone before he slipped the newest samples in the sequencer/analyzer. He also couldn't say why he figured it shouldn't wait a day or two.

.

.

"You were Reading me." It was a statement. But an observation rather than an accusation. "Out there with Ennie and the babies. You were trying to See if I was going to lose it."

"Reading?" She was stalling for time, and she told herself she just wanted to be sure. But she was already past uncertainty. And Astra knew it.

"I don't know what you call it here…"

"Yes," Upenda admitted guiltily. "I mean, yes, I was Listening. That's what we call it. Hearing and Listening. But I wasn't worried that you would…"

Astra laughed aloud at the expression on the painfully familiar face. "I thought perhaps it was taboo," she said, placing a hand on the taller woman's arm.

"We never had to hide our Talents where I am from. My sister used it to become one of the best medics in— one of the best physicians where we lived. They valued us for our skills, used us for them. We existed for the hope of them."

Upenda caught the swell of grief again – she was certain the mysterious feeling that Astra tried in vain to subdue was grief – and wished she had a Vulcan's talent for broadcasting emotion. Without entirely understanding why, she knew she would do almost anything to ease the other woman's pain.

The best she could do was distract her friend.

"We don't talk about it here," she explained. "We… can't. Not really."

Astra watched her without curiosity. As she knew what was about to be said and was just waiting for confirmation.

"Mama always chastised us whenever she caught any of us Listening," Penda continue. "It's stronger in her, of course. Not as specialized."

Astra nodded as if she understood completely. "One of the first things I did when I came here was learn your history. It always is."

Pen knew Astra's here wasn't T'Khasi Vokaya, and the knowledge left her confident enough to chase a hunch without Listening first to see if Astra truly had processed the implications.

"I guess you Hear meaning in spoken language, like Ennie," she hazarded. "I Hear the body working. I could explain better if I had your Gift, but Ennie knows what I mean."

Dark eyes met dark eyes, and this time Upenda did Listen. What she Heard elicited a nervous laugh.

"You were… _Reading_ me during my half-cocked explanation," she declared. Her stomach contracted painfully at the idea that her guess had been correct.

Nodding, Astra squeezed her arm. She turned away and hunched up a shoulder to wipe away sudden tears.

"I'm sorry, Pen. I didn't expect—" Astra paused to breathed deeply through her nose before expelling a long, slow stream of air through her mouth. "I am truly happy to be able to spend time with you and Ennie and… and I'm so happy about the babies. I really am. I just didn't expect it all to come back so clearly. I—"

Her shoulders started to heave. Sobs pushed out between lips Astra tried to hold firm. Pen found herself reaching over and enfolding the other woman in a tight embrace.

"It's okay, dada," she murmured, knowing the term was _right_, even if it wasn't completely accurate. "I'm here. You're safe. You're safe, here, little dada. You're safe."

After, Upenda couldn't say how long she had held her, murmuring soothing promises and calling the older woman "little sister." She couldn't remember when they had stumbled over to her bed and slumped down on the soft sheets. But they were both stiff and exhausted by the time Astra lifted her head from Pen's shoulder, pulled out of her arms and sat up.

Upenda watched Astra, hunched over at the edge of the bed, clutch her elbows and shudder.

"What happened to your dada?" she whispered, afraid she already knew the answer.

Astra didn't answer for a long time. Pen began to hope she wouldn't try to.

"She died." Her eyes were bleak with loss when she turned to meet Pen's anguished gaze. "They killed her because she saved me."

Upenda's breath caught in her throat and she began to struggle up, move towards Astra, perhaps to hold her again, maybe to just hold her hand. She wasn't sure which she intended, but Astra was on her feet and across the room before Pen had even swung her long legs over the bed.

"They killed her because she mitigated my sentence without their permission." Astra's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but Pen was Listening and knew way lay beneath. "Their greatest physician, from one of their greatest families, and she is _dead_ because she refused to let her little sister die.

"Now, decades later, I try to pretend I didn't lose everything. Except, I did."

* * *

**A/N**: Among Kikuyu traditionalists, a baby's first meal consists of unripened bananas, sweet potatoes, blue-green sugarcane and lamb. The women of an area prepare the food for the new mother, who transfers the food from her own mouth to the newborn's. In this way, babies are welcomed into their society very soon after birth.

Out of respect for Spock's Vulcan heritage, Astra and Upenda did not cook any lamb; Astra brought lamb-shaped soft toys from Earth, instead. See chapter 15 of _Then Comes Spock_ (/s/5208934/15/Then_Comes_Spock) if you'd like more details.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


	5. Hazy Hopes

**Chapter 4: Hazy Hopes**

* * *

Most folks said the teen years were the hardest on parent and kid alike. Probably most thought that was true. Although he was there to face daily acts of minor defiance, and Joanna was spared having to face disapproving looks every day, Leonard wasn't inclined to disagree.

He was lucky that they had as close a relationship as they did, and he knew it. Before he'd left for Starfleet — and then once more for good measure, just before they'd headed out on the first five-year mission — David McCoy had rammed it into his son's head that a girl who was already pretty much short a mother didn't need a father who only showed up once in along while, bearing smiles and gifts, but never a word of discipline. So Joanna knew she had a dad in most ever sense of the word. Len made sure he was more than a sperm donor and private bank to that little girl who was so close to being grown up now.

Letters every day, even if it was just a line or two, and scheduled monthly subspace chats augmented by extras when called for wasn't the same as being there, but he knew they had something remarkably fine between them. Joanna herself had put it best during one of their weekly calls back when he was still at the Academy:

"_Daddy, don't you think it's weird that you're all the way in San Francisco and Momma is just across town, but I feel closer to_ you_?"_

She'd said it with all the innocent curiosity an eight-year-old could muster, but Bones had felt his heart breaking a little, even as it swelled with love for his daughter and pride that she thought it natural to come to him with such a question.

'Course, the flip side of that was that she also didn't think twice of acting like a brat — or of playing the victim — when it suited her. And right about now it seemed to suit her.

He could see over her left shoulder that night had fallen in Atlanta, and only just stopped himself from muttering about young girls, Peeping Toms and window opacity. Surely, one argument per precious subspace call was enough?

His windowless office protected him from the sharp rays of Vulcan Beta's sun, but he had a feeling he'd rather be out baking in it than going toe-to-toe with Joanna McCoy.

"Think about it, honey!" He dusted off the patented slow grin so full of charisma that, time and time again, had caused humans anywhere from eight to eighty to completely change course just to agree with him. "If you're on Cerberus, I'll probably get to see you in person way more often than I do now."

Smile or no smile, Joanna wasn't biting. _Shoulda known better_, he figured, mentally kicking himself. His daughter knew just about all of his tricks and was prone to using them herself.

"But, Dad!" she whined at the comm screen without the slightest hint of charm. "I don't _want_ to live offworld! Who _knows_ what the schools are like on Cerberus? Don't you want to see your only child carry on your legacy."

"The schools there are perfectly fine," he retorted, promising himself he wouldn't take the rest of her bait. "Don't you think I would've checked that stuff out before agreeing to let you go?"

"But can they prepare me to specialize in genetics?" His daughter wasn't a dummy. She knew exactly how to press her case. "Come on! Pen's an _Uhura_! Didn't you talk to any of her cousins at the wedding? If I was staying with her, I'd be a shoo-in for Earth's best programs! Hell, for the Federation's best programs! The Uhura name carries _weight_."

"First, watch your mouth, young lady! Second, the McCoy name ain't all that shabby—"

"Genetics, Dad!"

"And, third," he carried on as if she hadn't cut in, "most of those Uhuras live in Africa while Pen lives in New York."

Joanna just rolled her eyes.

"Fourth, what makes you think she wants to take on responsibility for somebody else's kin?" For a second, Len felt guilty, worried that his words would sound unforgivably harsh to sensitive teen-aged ears. Joanna didn't so much as widen the eyes she'd just rolled, but he pushed on into a semi-apology, anyway. "Look, sug. I know you and Upenda are close, but there's close, and then there's family. Y'all aren't family, sweetheart."

Joanna dropped her eyes for a long moment, and when she looked up again, her face was thoughtful. Almost.

"We could have been." It was practically a whisper, not quite on the verge of a sob. It was definitely an accusation.

If she wanted to, his daughter could probably convince an Andorian living on Delta Vega to buy an air conditioning unit, but Bones liked to think he had genetic immunity. (She hadn't gotten that from her mother, after all.) Besides, she wasn't good enough yet to hide the devil in her expression. He refused to be taken in by his own kid.

"And that another thing!" he barreled on, all the while telling himself he was doing the right thing, making the only possible choice. "Do you really want to live with one of your dad's old— uh, friends? What if she's got a new… friend of her own?"

When Joanna smiled triumphantly, he was still too put out to gloat over its prematurity.

"Pen hasn't been on more than three dates in the past year."

Len leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest. He didn't care if it made him look full of himself. Sometimes, a dad's gotta do what a dad's gotta do, he figured.

"She tells you all about her love life, huh?"

Joanna leaned back, too, her pose mimicking his. Her face did a pretty good job with his expression, too.

"That's right," she said. "Claims she's too busy half the time to even _look_ at men, let alone date 'em."

_Jackpot!_ His expression got a little more smug._ And for more reason than one_, he silently admitted. "If she's too busy for dates, how's she gonna have time to raise a kid?"

"I'm almost sixteen, remember? I'll be out of her hair in less than three years. And in the mean time, I can rub shoulders up close and personal with Earth's most renown genetic specialists."

There was a reason they said the teen years were the worst, Len decided. He jerked forward again, ready to give up for the time being. She was giving him a headache.

"Sweetheart," he said, "have you even asked Upenda if she'd be willing to take you on?"

Smug got lost quick as sheepish made an appearance on the girl's face.

"I sent her a slow-comm this morning," she admitted.

Bones did a quick calculation and groaned. Slow-comms could take anywhere from seventeen to seventy hours between Earth and Vulcan Beta, depending on which way the relays were facing. If luck was on his side, he'd have this handled before Penda heard a word. But these days, he didn't exactly believe in luck.

.

.

The comm module sounded a familiar tone and Upenda reached over to flip it into to emergency-only mode without taking her eyes off her visitors. She'd brought the unit along to keep in touch with the partners at her medical practice. Not that Ambassador Sarek couldn't have provided her with comparable equipment, but bringing her own had spared her the extra work of conforming a new module to her personal settings — settings which, considering anything Sarek provided would have been T'Khasi Vokaya-made, might not even be available.

Spock raised a salt-and-pepper eyebrow as she motioned for them to sit. Taking her own seat after they'd complied, she folded her hands together on her desk. She thought she saw a smile tugging at the corners of the elderly Vulcan's mouth and had to push down an urge to either smile back or at least Listen to see if she'd read him correctly. In appropriate as it was, both desires were strong, so she focused more fully on Ambassador Sarek when she spoke.

"Thank for coming to see me. I think I might need your advice."

The conversation with Astra had left her shaken and uneasy, but she'd found some of the older woman's revelations intriguing. Scientists were, by necessity, detectives. Investigators. Upenda was no exception to the norm in that respect.

The very next day, she'd asked her host to arrange for a secure subspace call to her parents. The Vulcan ambassador hadn't questioned her reason. She supposed he already knew enough to deduce a large part of it.

Doctors Benjamin Uhura and M'Umbha bint Wakufunzi hadn't been surprised to hear from her, either. And they'd confirmed a lot of what she'd suspected. As well as a few things she hadn't.

Her eyes drifted back over to Ambassador Spock, or Spock Tela'at as he'd suggested they start calling him.

"_Now that the colony is more firmly established," he'd pointed out, not quite smiling, "the status of my ambassadorship is somewhat in flux."_

At the time, no one had even asked about his motive for the change. But then he often appeared to know more about what the people around him were thinking than he should.

"What do you know of Astra's background," she asked baldly.

The elderly Vulcan's eyes swung over to his father's counterpart.

It was risky, questioning Spock in Sarek's presence. If he was anything like her brother-in-law — and by now Upenda knew the two Spocks were far more similar than might be initially obvious — it was unlikely that he would be willing to betray his lover's confidences. She realized he'd also want the same from her.

"Sarek already knows about us," she added, hoping would reassure him. The brow rose again, but the hint of barely concealed amusement was absent. "He's known since before you were born."

Spock watched her for a while before he spoke.

"The world she came from was not like yours," he said. "Nor was it anything like mine. What the Uhuras kept secret in our universes, was a point of pride in hers. It gave the family power, and ultimately, it gave her a means to escape."

* * *

**A/N:** In the TAS episode, _The Survivor_, Bones mentions that Joanna had gone to school on Cerberus. Now, given the timing she said she as there, he probably meant that she was at university. I just decided to send her there a little early. Also, the idea for her being sent to live offworld comes from the TOS novel, _Crisis On Centaurus_. In that, she lived with McCoy's sister and brother-in-law on Centaurus. That is _not_ the case in this story, however.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


	6. Whiskey Lies

**Chapter Four: Whiskey Lies**

* * *

His office was at the far end of the lab. At the time they'd been divvying up spaces, taking the smallest of the five rooms radiating off the back half of the central work area seemed to make sense. The two largest of them — on either side of Bones's tiny cubicle — had been converted into a consulting spaces they'd hoped they'd never need. Let J.G. have bigger place, Bones had figured, closer to the door, and more accommodating to visitors. The Vulcan-trained doctor was better equipped to handle any Vulcan visitors that might nose their way in.

But now that meant there was huge empty room between him and Upenda, when only a wall separated her from M'Benga. Not that that matter, Bones told himself. J.G. wasn't stupid enough to risk his balls just for a chance to make eyes at a woman. No, Jabilo Geoffrey M'Benga knew guy code like the back of his hand and cold be trusted to stick to it if it cost him his last breath. So, that wasn't the problem.

The two old Vulcans and the mysterious human woman holed up in Pen's office right now _were_.

This was the third time the trio had visited her in the past three days. It didn't ease his mind at all knowing that the day before the first visit the two pointy-eared pixies had spent about an hour and a half in there without Astra Boipuso in tow.

The worst thing was, Leonard didn't know what was going on, and Pen wasn't talking.

"I'll let you know if it turns out to be relevant," she'd promised. Right before she closed her door in his face.

He and J.G. regularly swept the rooms for listening devices — anytime they were all away from the lab, they did before they went back to work. No matter what they said about that honestly shit, Bones wouldn't put it past the Vulcans to simply not _say_ they were spying. But Pen probably wasn't that vigilant. She just wasn't that suspicious. Besides, he and his African colleague had been checking for her.

The tiny component in his hand felt like it weighed a ton. Installing it in her office would be wrong, he told himself. And he'd have to make sure Jabilo never discovered it. And it was _unnecessary_, damn it! Pen wasn't the enemy.

But she wouldn't tell him what was going on. That rankled. Because if something she knew, or some lead she was investigating could solve the mystery of those two pretty babies and get them off this hell the Vulcans now called home…

The door chime saved from completing the thought.

"Come in!" he called, quickly stuffing the little machine in his trouser pocket.

Spock the younger walked in, shoulders loose, hands behind his back. Bones wondered what the kid had to be so relaxed about, but at the same time tried to rummage up a similar sense of ease.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere changing diapers or rubbing a pretty lady's back?" he snapped by way of a greeting.

That damnable eyebrow rose again as Spock swung his arms forward and seated himself in the chair in front of the desk.

"My children and bond-mate are resting," he said placidly. "It seemed like an opportune time to visit you, and to remind you of your promise to Mister Sulu."

Leonard groaned inwardly at the reminder. _Of all the times for the hobgoblin to wanna talk about sewing quilts!_ Then he noticed that one of the hands resting on the Vulcan's lap was closed into a loose fist. He nodded towards it.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Patterns," said Spock, opening the hand to reveal a data strip. "Designed by Val Vancampen, derived from the coverings for the gifts Nyota and I have received for Seren and Saoirse."

Len raised a brow of his own. The Terran textile artist was famous for good reason.

"I heard you knew her," he muttered, reaching for the proffered strip. "You expect _me_ to make a Vancampen design?"

"As does Auntie Val," was the unexpected reply. "She had assured me that based on the work you did Nyota's wedding dress she deems you more than capable."

Thoughts of spying on beautiful, brilliant African women took a backseat as Bones called up the patterns on his computer. It was a relief not to have to decide just yet whether or not to make what could end being one of the worst mistakes in life.

* * *

Nyota gazed down at her sleeping daughters, still in awe of the tiny new people after three weeks. That she and Spock, together, had created these two beautiful beings, before they'd even known it was possible… a swell of emotion — joy, mingled with devotion, love, a compulsion to _protect_ — prevented her from finishing the thought. She glanced up to find her mate staring at her and their children.

He came to her, clasping her beckoning hand in his, and they both looked down at the cradles gently rocking on the stone balcony floor. Love and belonging flowed through the link in each direction. Together, they basked in the strengthening of their familial bond.

A sound — faint footsteps — from their bedroom caught her attention a millisecond before Spock noticed and turned his attention to the doorway, as well.

Framed in shadow, the light just touching her somber face, Upenda stood waiting, watching.

"Dada," she called softly, her grave voice giving Nyota permission — no, _beseeching_ her — to Listen, "there is something I need to tell you."

Nyota's eyes slid from her sister up to her husband's impassive face, uncertain. Fear lanced through her, and only with Spock's assistance was she able to keep it from polluting the peace emanating from Seren Adia and Saoirse Ta'an.

"You should hear this, as well, kaka," Upenda told him, seemingly unaware of her sister's turmoil, though Nyota suspected that wasn't the case. Penda stepped away from the threshold, out into the bright T'Khasian Vokaya sun. "You also should learn what has been kept secret. You both must know what Uhuras truly are."

She flicked a glance at her nieces then stared at nothing with unfocused eyes, head cocked in a way that told Nyota she was Listening to the babies. Apparently satisfied that they had experienced none of their mother's distress, Upenda nodded to herself. Clear eyes returned to her sister and brother-in-law.

"Sit," she said, indicating the table and chairs placed a short distance away from the cradles. "I'll tell you what I know. It's less than I should be able to, but— but we'll rectify that another time." She shook her head. "Sit," she repeated.

While Spock quickly removed the brightly-colored packages covering the table and placed them on the chaise longue next to their daughters' cradles, Nyota took a seat and motioned for Penda to join her. She was a afraid that if she spoke, her voice would break. She'd never seen her older sister tremble so.

Upenda remained silent until Spock rejoined them. Her voice shook as much as her body when she began to talk.

"I… I s-still don't know… ev-everything," she began something like, but _not_ like, fear lacing every word. Nyota was surprised and gratified to see Spock reach out to her dada and cover her hand with his. She felt the comfort that seeped from him into Penda, and her own fear eased.

"I don't know the whole story," Upenda started over, her voice steadier now, "but I will share what I _do_ know."

Nyota Listened in silence to every word as the tale unfolded and her sense of self was irrevocably altered. At some point, her husband's free hand had found hers, and although she couldn't remember how it happened, she'd begun to hold and stroke Upenda's other fingers.

The telling didn't take long, although later Nyota would feel that it had lasted an eternity. Upenda's words were direct, concise, her explanations scientific, academic, devoid of the emotion she had so recently displayed, even as she revealed secrets that others would call treason.

Until the story diverged into another universe, where what was secret here and had also been in the elder Spock's time, was well known and even celebrated.

"Of course, they weren't chi'Thaai Veothai there," Upenda said. "They were… they were warriors, still, though also parted from Rihannsu," She choked in a rugged breath "and each side valued them for their strength and ferocity. Each side curried their favor.

"I don't know if the Uhuras who joined with them were what we would call _good_, but they disliked all of those in power and joined with these independent Romulans because they knew it would enable them to seek the changes they desired. I have no idea why the Romulans agreed.

"In the end, though, it made Uhura a influential name within this empire. It meant… she had freedoms denied other women. It meant that even after she fell in love with a Vulcan, her actions were ignored — until they couldn't be. And they set out to destroy her, him and the sister who helped them.

"They failed in the first instance, but were success in the rest."

The three of them sat like that, helping one another through the revelation of knowledge that was at times painful. Still, by the time the elder Uhura finished her recounting, both women had tears streaming down their faces.

For some time, neither said anything, and he took their hands again while they silently cried.

"The Uhuras will never be my enemies," he pronounced, his voice quietly resolute.

Both Upenda and Nyota tried to pull away, but he held fast.

"Before Vulcan, before Starfleet, I must always choose my family," he told them. "Spock and Astra must make their own decisions in this, but you and yours are my chosen family, and therefore my first priority."

.

She couldn't look at him. Every time her eyes found his, a fresh crop of tears fell. Illogical though it was, that she could sense no accusation from him only added to her guilt.

"I'm sorry, k'diwa," she whispered. "I never knew any of this."

"You are not my enemy, ashayam," he reminded her. "And neither were your ancestors enemies of my people. The chi'Thaai Veothai enemies of my father's forebears. They sought a peace similar to that which Vulcans achieved and were banished from their homeworld for it. How could there ever be enmity between us for that?"

Spock wrapped his arms around his bond-mate's waist and drew her back to him.

"If Upenda's assessment is correct," he said, "your family's history has little bearing on their state."

Nyota turned in his arms, pressing her face into his heat. She scrubbed her eyes against the soft fabric encasing hard muscle until the were dry before lifting her chin and meeting his concerned gaze.

"But she _can't_ be right. If everything worked the way it was supposed to work, the girls would be almost human." She knew her mournful tone was out of keeping with the topic, but didn't attempt to modulate her voice. She'd learned enough today to have reason to grieve. "Even if she _is_ right about the girls, she's also right about the secrets. If what my family does is able to help Vulcans, we'll need to reveal ourselves. There has to be a way we can do that without ending up like Astra and…."

Although she let her voice trail off, she could tell from the way his arms tightened around her that Spock understood what her full sentence could have been.

_Astra and her Spock_ or _Astra and her Upenda_. She wasn't sure herself, which she would have said. She knew only that she had feared to say _Astra and her baby_.

* * *

It didn't take a genius to come up with six dozen reasons why Miz Boipuso was in there again. Everyone with half a working brain and decent eyesight must have arrived at pretty much the same conclusion he'd come to after seeing the singer at the wedding. What might slip past the casual observer while Astra was on her own became glaring obvious when the woman stood next to M'Umbha Uhura, or any of that woman's daughters. Hell, even standing next to some random Wakufunzi cousin, she looked suspiciously _in_ place!

Bones's had hovered over the activation control, all the while telling himself it was wrong to eavesdrop. That if he couldn't bring himself to trust Pen, he risked ruining something more than he was willing to think about right now. He pressed the button.

"_Think about the risk to Saoirse and Seren if we _don't_ tell him." _ Pen's voice was strained, but not angry or scared.

"_This has nothing to do with his work for them!"_ He couldn't say the same for Astra's. _"We're talking about the safety of your entire family."_

"_Astra."_ Pen had turned soothing, placating. _"The family knows what we're dealing with, and will make a decision, _as a family_, about whether or not to tell the universe the truth. I'm just suggesting I tell Len, first. That I tell him no matter what."_

"_It's too dangerous right now. You can't know that—"_

"_I know that I can trust him. I know that Spock and Ennie trust him."_

"_Dada, _please_."_ There was a minute pause, and Astra's voice carried a renewed desperation when she continued. _Please ask yourself if that's true. Ask yourself if you believe that because he has proven himself worthy of your trust"_ Bones felt his stomach turn, knowing what the answer would be if either knew what he was up to right now. _"or if it's because you're still in love with him."_

The silence in the other room was heavy enough to make him stop breathing as he waited for her to reply. His heart pounded audibly in his chest as he imagined her asking herself the question, and then answering Miz Boipuso.

"_I trust him because he deserves to be trusted_," he heard her say at last, and his gut clenched with guilt again. His head swam like he was halfway through an epic bender. _"However, I _will_ wait before I say anything. I… I know he was different in your world, dada. But here… here he's on our side. He won't hurt you, or any of us. He's different here."_

Bones stabbed at the button, ending his illicit listening. Pen had sounded so damned confident! He felt an inexplicable anger rising at Pen's unwavering belief in him.

Switching his screen to Val Vancampen's patterns, he reached for the pieces of fabric Spock had been delivering on a daily basis. Now wasn't really a good time for thinking.

.

.

He had a whole corner of one quilt done when Upenda's head ducked around his office door two hours later.

"Have dinner with me tonight," she said, smiling. "There's something we need to talk about."

The way she was eyeing him made it seem like maybe she planned on making McCoy the main course. Bones was hard-pressed not offer himself on a platter. "Hard" being the operative word.

"Ready to let the cat out of the bag, huh?" he asked, sounding far more surly than he'd intended. Pen's blank look almost made him ashamed of his tone. Almost. _What the hell?_ Might as well go on the way he'd started. "Finally tired of sneaking around behind my back?"

"Len, I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, still looking slightly confused. Though the half-smile was gorgeous, it was about as real a clown's. "I just want to spend some time with you — _just you_ — outside this lab. And there's something I want to run by you, but I haven't been 'sneaking around.' There were some things I needed to look into before we could talk about it."

"There's just one problem with that theory, Doctor Uhura." Leonard frowned fiercely at the woman standing before him. "At first, we looked at the twins' DNA, saw that it was Vulcanoid, and stopped there. Seemed like you were right. Hell! It seemed like Spock and I were right. But that was just sloppy science and I don't like sloppy in my work. So, I went back and looked again. Do you know what I saw, Doctor?" The frown was replaced with a harsh grimace masquerading a smile. It flickered on his face for the briefest of moments, something like hope flashed in his eyes before he tucked it away.

"No, Len," Upenda said, her voice as tight as his lips. "Why don't you tell me."

.

He folded his arms over his chest and swung away from her, but not before she saw light of trust and optimism completely bleed from his eyes.

"A good chunk of their genes don't match anything in Spock's genome." His voice was quiet, too blank to be called "soft." Not even angry or fearful or anything of the things she imagined might color his revelation. "I know Ny wouldn't cheat on him, Pen. I know that. And besides, half their genes were obviously his."

When he turned back she saw the anger and betrayal that had been missing from his inflection. A painful stab cut into her belly at the sight.

"So, Doctor Uhura," he began, ice coating each carefully enunciated word, "perhaps you can tell me how, exactly, this is so. Maybe you can tell me whatever this 'secret' you, Ambassador Spock, Ambassador Sarek and Astra Fucking _Boipuso_ are so keen on keeping from me is!"

Upenda swallowed, willing her fury to abate enough to keep her from reacting to it. The last thing she needed was to lash back at him right now. He'd only see that as confirmation of what ever he imagined she up to.

"It has nothing to do with you, Len," she told him as evenly as she could manage, but she didn't trying to tell herself that her eyes weren't blazing. Nobody got to her the way Leonard Horatio McCoy could. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Joanna. She sent a letter, asking to live with me."

* * *

**A/N:** Val Vancampen was first introduced in my fic _Baby Gifts_, and she is the creation (and fic-world embodiment) of Starquilter57. Thanks for letting me use her again, SQ! The baby quilts Bones is making was also first mentioned in that collection. The chi'Thaai Veothai are taken from my _Entanglement_ and from my _1C13:11_. This fic is unrelated to those two, however.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


	7. Smoke and Molasses

**Chapter Six: Smoke and Molasses**

* * *

Upenda shook with a rage so strong it frightened her, and it only got worse as seconds passed, Len stared back at her, looking for all the universe like he thought _she_ was the one who'd done something reprehensible. The sense of betrayal was beyond her experience. Her reaction to it was out of proportion with anything she'd ever expected.

"I wanted," she said again after taking a deep, steadying breath, "to make sure you knew what was going on and find out you felt about it." She took another breath, unclenched her fisted hands. "I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted… I wanted to talk to you because you have a right to know. I wanted to spend time with you because I—"

Abruptly breaking off, she spun away from him and stalked towards the main lab exit.

"Pen!" he called after her. "Upenda, wait!"

She didn't stop until she was through the door and down the hall, waiting agitatedly for the lift.

Upenda had always been the most easygoing of the three Uhura siblings. Everyone said so. While Muta and Ennie were busy taking life so seriously, Pen always taken pains to remind herself — and them — humans needed to balance the important pursuits with _fun_. She was the last to anger and the first to forgive. This level of fury was completely foreign to her.

"Pen, I'm sorry."

She hadn't even heard him come after her. When she looked over her shoulder, eyes still blazing, words full of accusation and pain died on her tongue. There was enough pain on his face for both of them.

"Give me a chance to explain," he said, pleaded.

Another breath and she was almost there. Almost ready to listen.

"Please."

Careful to skirt around him, she led the way back to the lab.

.

He'd known better than to suspect her. She wouldn't ever do anything that endangered the people she loved. Yes, sometimes she did shit she couldn't possibly really want to do — and with a smile on her face, too — but only if it helped.

She'd braved Atlanta and a ballroom full of McCoys celebrating his mother's birthday just so his little girl could show off her new friend and new clothes. He knew she'd do anything for her sisters little girls. Because family was everything to Upenda Uhura.

.

.

_"I can_not _believe tonight! First, your daughter abandons me, and now _this_?" She turned her face up and laughed into the rain._

_"And it's only gonna get worse," he predicted. "Why don't you let me make it up to you. Stay. Flight'll be canceled, anyway."_

_"I didn't bring any bags," she protested. "I wasn't planning on staying the night!"_

_"I'm sure I got something you can squeeze into." His teasing drawl sent her into a fit of giggles. Cold and wet as the both were, he liked feeling that came with her shaking like that against him. "C'mon, darlin', there won't be any flights tonight, and a GP doesn't usually qualify for emergency transport credits — even ones whose last name is Uhura."_

_She swatted him and danced out of his hold, giggling again. Just as the storm got worse._

_"Fine!" she called over the sound of rain sheeting down all around them. "But I'm still not convinced you didn't have something to do with all this. Leonard Horatio McCoy!"_

_She waved a hand towards the sky. He looked up automatically, and got a face full of wet for his trouble. Snarling, he reached for her._

_High heels and all, she dashed towards his hover vehicle. Almost made it, too._

_"Woman!" he said, lifting her off her feet and holding her against his chest. "You did _that _on purpose."_

_"How was I supposed to know you were as well-trained as Pavlov's dog?" She tried for an innocent grin. _

_He didn't buy it._

_"You're gonna pay for that one, sug."_

_"Promise?"_

_._

_He was supposed to make a real, honest to goodness fire while she got out of her wet things. _

_"I love the smell of woodsmoke," she claimed as she stepped into his bedroom and shut the door. "It's romantic, don't you think?"_

_Len didn't have an opinion about it one way or the other, but he was more than willing to please her just about any way he could. _

_The little house he got to call home the few times he was dirtside and not stuck at Starfleet wasn't big enough to swing a cat, but tonight that just meant it wouldn't take long to warm it up. And the sooner it warmed up, well…_

_The sound of an old-fashioned door swinging open distracted him from stacking logs. He glanced over just in time to see her emerge. _

_Pen managed to transform rags into temptations. Leonard's breath caught when she came out of his bedroom in nothing but his saggy pajama bottoms and the one piece of Ole Miss memorabilia that went everywhere he went. The ratty old sweatshirt was more fray than fabric. He couldn't say which excited him more: the though of taking it off her, or seeing her wear it in the first place._

_Standing, he crossed the to where she leaned against the doorjamb._

_"My momma woulda told me to throw that thing away a hundred years ago if she knew I still had it." He ran a finger over the cracked lettering dipping and rising across her chest. "I'm glad she didn't know."_

_Her laughter warmed him up in more ways than one. All thoughts of building up a fire against the storm raging outside his tiny cottage fled. They'd make their own heat._

_._

_"I wish Joanna was here."_

_He rolled onto his side and stared at her. Then he reached over and gently knocked his fist against her forehead, pretending to listen intently._

_"I meant I wish she was home, you idiot!" She shoved his hand away; __the idiot she'd accused him of being__, he snaked it around her waist to pull her close._

_"Chances are, if she was home, she'd want to keep you all to herself. Probably make you stay up all night talking girly stuff."_

_"Maybe," she said, noncommittally. Pen's smile was a little more enigmatic than he wanted know about._

_"I don't want to know, do I?"_

_"Probably not just yet. Maybe when you__'re__ older."_

_He shifted himself and settled her more comfortably in his arms._

_"Think she had something to do with the storm?"_

_Her answering laugh started him warming up all over again._

_._

_"What time will she be home?" It was late and the answer was "too soon." He pulled her close again._

_"Why? You plan on still being here when she gets in?"_

_She burrowed her face into his chest. Her nose was cold. He never did make that fire._

_"She'll never let me forget it if I'm not."_

_"Good. 'Cause if you left, I'd get it from her way before you did."_

_She laughed, the soft sound wrapping around him like a blanket. When she looked up, her molasses eyes were serious. _

_"We're alike that way, you and me." She smiled at him again, tracing a slender finger along his cheek. "Family is everything. Maybe they make us crazy, but we'd still do almost anything for them."_

.

.

He knew better, but he'd done it anyway. And there was no guarantee she would forgive him this time.

.

Upenda sat behind her desk, watching her hands twisting in her lap. It was easier than looking at him. She made herself do it anyway

"How long, Len?" she asked, her voice more controlled than she was feeling. "How many times."

She waited for him to answer. She waited for him to explain how he could do something that changed everything she thought she knew about whatever it was between them. And as she waited, she prepared herself to do something she never thought she'd need to do with Leonard McCoy. Shaking fingers gripped the desktop.

He opened his mouth a few times before anything came out, and when he finally spoke, Upenda Listened.

"Only a little while, Pen. Just a few moments. And only this once. Only today."

She Heard his anguish. She Heard his regret. She heard his honestly.

"I see."

.

Leonard waited for her to say something more. Anything. Braced himself to hear her holler about how he was fucked up and needed to stay the hell away from her. What got was a whole lot of silent nothing, instead. It crossed his mind that she'd been spending too much time with Vulcans because, looking at her, he didn't have a clue what she was conjuring up behind her maple syrup-colored eyes. They looked more sad than angry now, and knowing that was his fault didn't make staring into them any easier.

"I know it was wrong," he admitted, shifting in the chair facing her desk. "Knew when I doing it. Knew when I was _thinking_ about doing it."

Her silence was an accusation in and of itself, but at least she wasn't giving him the death glare anymore. It wasn't much comfort, but it was more than he deserved.

"I'm lost, Pen. I don't know what's going on, can't figure it out for the life of me, and that's not something I'm used to." He raked a hand through his hair, used it as an excuse to get away from the eyes. "Damn it, I'm trying to help your family and I—"

"And you thought that maybe they needed protecting from me?" Her words were, but the tone was absent.

"No!" He shot up out of his seat, met her gaze again and had to look away. "No. I know you'd never do anything to hurt them, sug. I know that. But I'm at the end of my wits here and… and you've got something going on that you're not telling me—"

"Can't," she cut it. And even without inflection, her voice cut like a razor.

He risked another look. Disappointment, grief even, lined her face. Instead of detracting from her attractiveness it made him feel like a bigger shit than ever. She'd had a lot of reactions to him in the past, but this one was completely new. He let himself get lost in memories of better times. Moments they weren't likely to repeat if he didn't do something to fix this mess he'd created.

_"We're alike that way, you and me." What he saw in her smile, her hand on his face made him flush and his heart race. "Family is everything. Maybe they make us crazy, but we'd still do almost anything for them."_

Shaking his head, he snapped back to the present. "Huh?"

Pen sighed, sounding almost exasperated. He'd take the vexation over her sorrow any day.

"I _can't_ tell you." She didn't sound like a robot anymore, either. "I want to. And one day — hopefully soon — I will. But I can't right now."

"If what you're not telling me can help your sister and the twins and Spock…" He trailed off, knowing it was useless. She'd never do anything to her family. Not even inadvertently. Pen was too smart for that.

"It can't, Len." The softer tone, the kinder eyes, gave him a little taste of hope. "But if it works out, I think I might be able to give them some insurance, and buy you some time."

At that, his jawed dropped. "Buy me some…" he managed to get out of his mouth before he looked like an idiot with it hanging open. But then he shook his head again, smiling a little this time around. He was starting to sound like a damned parrot. And think about a well as one, too not to see that part of the puzzle. "Astra and the ambassador…?"

"They're willing. We don't know if it will work."

"Anything I can do to help?"

She smiled at him then. The real deal, full of warmth and affection.

"I'll let you know."

He could live with that, he decided. For now, anyway. Even if she hadn't exactly said he was forgiven, she wasn't looking like he'd killed her puppy. More could wait.

"How about that dinner you promised me?" He was going for light and teasing, and failing miserably.

Her smile disappeared.

"Maybe another time." He stared at her desk, at the fingers twisting around each other on its shiny surface. "Maybe lunch tomorrow? We still need to talk about Joanna."

"Maybe," he echoed.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek concepts or characters. I don't profit from writing about them.


End file.
